92

Ha-gyeom grabbed Baek Sa’s wrist with a force that seemed ready to break it.

“The Director’s goal… is to completely dismantle this organization?”

“As long as the leaders of 0 District hold power, atrocities will continue, and the innocent will suffer endlessly,” Baek Sa replied calmly.

The fall of 0 District’s leaders. It was a goal Ha-gyeom shared. After all, he was a victim of their first atrocities, having lost everything to their actions.

When the chaos of the monster invasions began, the leaders consolidated their power, forcibly recruiting gifted individuals while slaughtering their remaining families—a well-known fact. Even now, over a decade later, crimes and exploitation of both the gifted and non-gifted persisted.

The Center, while outwardly neutral, was the only organization actively rescuing victims from this infamous district among the thirty others. Yet even the Center’s goodwill had limits, a truth Ha-gyeom had learned recently through Gi Suh-hyun’s story. Both she and the Kang sisters had said it plainly—the Center also chose who to save.

“To break the cycle of evil, we have to sever its roots,” Baek Sa declared.

Sever the roots of evil.

Ha-gyeom, who had lost his family and become an orphan in 0 District, had never concretely envisioned revenge. But now, to think that Director Kim Hye-jeong had been plotting all along, using Baek Seung-woo as a tool, left him reeling.

“To sever the roots of evil, you must cut off the snake’s head…”

“…”

“And to cut off the snake’s head, you need to know who sits at the very top.”

While it was an open secret that 0 District was led by the former chairman of K Group, his true identity was shrouded in mystery. The era of media controlling the world had long passed, and society had become a playground for the privileged.

With media gone, there was no way to confirm whether the chairman of K Group still existed. Only a select few leaders from various districts, bound by a tacit agreement not to interfere with one another’s territories, knew the truth about the leader’s identity.

Even the Center, despite its efforts, couldn’t fully uncover how 0 District operated or who exactly was at its core.

In this dark age, the leaders of the districts operated like hidden criminal syndicates, ruling through secrecy rather than displays of power. 0 District, isolated by the sea, perpetuated its crimes, exploiting the powerless while hoarding resources in a time of widespread poverty.

“So, that’s why they sent you…”

Kim Hye-jeong had sent Baek Seung-woo, the Center’s brightest star, to infiltrate this place. A 26-year-old S-class Esper with unparalleled skills and a sense of justice that made him a prime candidate for leadership—and bait the district’s leaders couldn’t resist.

“Exactly. That’s why they sent me…”

At last, Ha-gyeom noticed the subtle tremble in Baek Sa’s eyes. Unable to hold back any longer, he collapsed against Baek Sa’s shoulder, resting his forehead there. Though he had only listened, it felt as exhausting as running at full speed. His chest burned with an indescribable emotion, and tears he couldn’t suppress spilled from his eyes.

Ha-gyeom, too, wanted the downfall of 0 District’s leaders. But never, not even once, had he wanted Baek Seung-woo to sacrifice himself for it.

“Why didn’t you refuse?”

“It was an order.”

“Even so… how could they assign you such an operation?”

Just imagining the five years Baek Sa had spent here made Ha-gyeom’s vision go black. He could easily envision Baek Seung-woo thriving in a different way, had he remained at the Center.

The Baek Seung-woo who had once extended a hand to Ha-gyeom, saving countless others in the same way. A role model for other gifted individuals at the Center, an exceptional team leader driven by justice and goodwill.

But here, Baek Seung-woo had been reduced to a pawn of the powerful. He condoned atrocities, aligned himself with the leaders, and willingly erased his own shining past.

Wiping his tear-streaked face, Ha-gyeom lifted his head with difficulty. Baek Sa met his gaze and murmured, “Do you know why I infiltrated the very place where I first saved you?”

The same words he’d once spoken in his quarters now came from his lips again. The weight of them made Ha-gyeom feel as though his world was crumbling.

“At first, it was for you.”

The words Ha-gyeom had desperately hoped not to hear spilled from Baek Sa’s mouth.

“Because I’m the only one who’s seen your pain up close.”

“…”

“You, who were so tormented by nightmares and couldn’t do anything alone, eventually found your footing because of my care. Watching you recover from those bleeding wounds, stand on your own, and hope for a future—it made me happier than anything else. Even though I watched over you with bated breath, in the end, you did it.”

Ha-gyeom realized he had never considered Baek Seung-woo’s feelings—what it must have been like for him to silently watch over him all that time.

“The day you created your first resonance,” Baek Sa continued, “you looked so happy, even though it was clumsy.”

Perhaps because the subsequent training had been so grueling, Ha-gyeom’s memory of that moment was faint. But he vaguely remembered that first success—proving he had the power to protect those he loved—had been a joy.

The fact that Baek Sa remembered even such small details struck Ha-gyeom as strange. When he bit his lip in silence, Baek Sa reached out and ruffled the back of his head, just as he had done when they were younger.

“Even though you exceeded all my expectations, why was it that watching you always hurt so much?” Baek Sa murmured.

Even though Ha-gyeom’s entire family had met a tragic end, he had been able to endure after entering the Center because Baek Seung-woo was there. Not once during that long time had Ha-gyeom ever connected those years with pain. If anything, he had thought of them as a sacred process of slowly washing away the lingering agony within him.

‘Even that was more than I deserved, so why…?’

Baek Sa, who had been silently gazing at him, gently cupped his cheek. The warmth of his hand was almost scorching, and it suddenly brought back a memory—something Baek Seung-woo had said long ago, pointing at him. He had been sitting on a bench with Yu Hae-na, sharing a cigarette.

‘Ha-gyeom is like my guiding principle. Someone I must never lose.’

Ha-gyeom had always cherished those words. But now, as they floated through his mind, they caused him pain for the first time.

The guiding principle of Baek Seung-woo—his love and reason to keep going—had become the very arrow that had plunged him into this abyss five years ago.

If Ha-gyeom had known, he wouldn’t have cherished those words. He would have buried them deep in a place where he could never reach them.

Overcome, Ha-gyeom bit down on his lower lip so hard it threatened to bruise, as though punishing himself. If it was truly his existence—the one saved by Baek Seung-woo’s hands and nurtured under his care—that had driven him into this hellish place, Ha-gyeom wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself.

“When all this is over, we’ll be able to save far more people than we ever could before.”

Baek Sa, perceptive as always, immediately noticed Ha-gyeom’s self-reproach and spoke in a comforting tone. However, the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes quickly extinguished, leaving only darkness behind.

“But… I’ve already ignored so many deaths. That’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”

The gray haze clouding his gaze spoke volumes. The breeze that had once felt soft and soothing now seemed heavy as it brushed past Ha-gyeom’s ears. He couldn’t help but worry that Baek Sa might have lost not just parts of himself but also the shallow reservoir of emotions he had managed to preserve.

Yet, in a corner of his heart, Ha-gyeom still believed in him. There were moments when Baek Sa’s gaze was as warm as it had been in the past, and despite pretending to be someone else, he had always shown kindness to Ha-gyeom. Every interaction they had in this place was proof that Baek Sa hadn’t lost everything.

Ha-gyeom could also sense, faintly, that he stirred something in Baek Sa—something that brought him closer to the radiant man he once was. If Ha-gyeom wasn’t the thread connecting Baek Sa’s present and past, there would be no confusion in his gaze when he looked at him.

Even if Baek Sa’s guiding principle was now reduced to a flickering ember, Ha-gyeom didn’t doubt that it could reignite into a blazing fire capable of consuming everything in its path. Instead of judging Baek Sa for what he had become, Ha-gyeom chose to speak honestly.

“The world has always been full of contradictions, hasn’t it? I didn’t realize that until I left the Center and the protection you gave me.”

“…”

“It was only after coming back here and seeing the outside world that I understood. Saving someone doesn’t mean it’s the end, and just because the Center was a good place for me doesn’t mean it was good for everyone.”

Familiar faces and memories flashed through Ha-gyeom’s mind like a reel of film.

“The world isn’t one-dimensional. But because of the luck I was given, I unknowingly shut my eyes and ears to everything else.”

Baek Sa gently brushed a hand down Ha-gyeom’s cheek as he replied, “I was the same. The only difference is that my experiences let me predict the conclusion you’ll eventually reach.”

“What conclusion?” Ha-gyeom asked, even though he could sense the answer from the Baek Sa standing before him.

Baek Sa’s hand slid from Ha-gyeom’s cheek to rest at the back of his neck, gently massaging the tension there. “I don’t want someone like you, who’s recovered so well, to fall into despair. I can’t explain how much it pains me to think about the suffering you’ll endure as a guide. How excruciating it would be to watch this pure, untainted child I saved with my own hands fall apart. And how terrified I am that, in the end, I won’t be able to protect you. How could I ever put all of that into words, Ha-gyeom?”

As Baek Sa’s voice grew agitated, Ha-gyeom met his intensity with calm resolve.

“…Is it because I’m your guiding principle?”

Though Ha-gyeom’s question echoed a term he had overheard, Baek Sa showed no surprise. He simply closed his dark eyes slowly before reopening them.

“Yes. Because you’re like my guiding principle.”

“…”

“Someone I must never forget or lose.”